


The Bright King's Feast

by gloss



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Banter, M/M, Oral Sex, Sex Pollen, escape by the skin of teeth, love pollen, pining gets requited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-14 09:09:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20598278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: "Can you talk?" Finn sounds hushed and very tense. "Is it safe?""Is what safe? There's like pink shit swirling around in the air and everyone's off their rocker and I think C'ai is inheatand what did you do to Connix?""Ssshh! Don't let on you're talking to me!"Poe rescues Finn when the entire base goes mad with love pollen for him.





	The Bright King's Feast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smaragdbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaragdbird/gifts).

Something is in the air when Poe makes his impromptu return to base. Quite literally, as the air is suffused with dancing, glinting pink particles, and also figuratively — people are dashing about far more haphazardly than usual, their chatter much louder and more discordant. 

A young Twi'lek enlistee rolls along the boundary wall, humming to themself and playing with the twitching ends of their headtails.

C'ai skips down the tarmac, his mouth tendrils engorged and shaded deeply magenta. He's carrying a bundle of local flora and lichens; he might be whistling.

"Uh, BB-8?" Poe ventures. He's still sitting in the cockpit of his light freighter. The canopy is up — hence the noise as well as the dusting of particles across his chest. They're getting in his eyes, too. It doesn't hurt or sting, just leaves everything a little blurred and brighter than usual. "Any ideas what the hell is going on here?"

After a moment for accessing base comms and networks, BB-8 announces, _«Finn's in jail! Also he's a feast! For the eyes **and** the tongue!»_

Poe has been flying and working alone a lot lately. Maybe it's getting to him. He closes his eyes and rolls his head around, then tries again. "Explain?"

_«Finn's very delicious!»_

"Well, yes." BB-8 could be reading aloud from Poe's secret diary, except he doesn't keep one, not since adolescence and the Tragic Affair of Kilam's Hot Caretaker. For a heart-stopping moment, he wonders if the droid has gained telepahic powers. He thinks, as loudly and clearly as he can, _Get out of my head, Beebs_. There's no reaction, so it seems that all the information BB-8's relaying is, indeed, coming from base channels.

_«Finn's delicious and everyone loves him!»_

"Again, true," Poe says. He climbs out of the cockpit and brushes off the rosy, glittering particles from his front. He looks like he's been gorging on Tonapattian pastries and getting the flower sugar all over himself. "While you're not helping whatsoever, can you tell me what the hell's in the air?"

_«Love!»_

"That's it, you're going in for maintenance."

_«Can Finn perform it?»_

Something is definitely awry, possibly amiss. Poe punches in Connix's commlink. She is serious and careful to a fault, as well as reliably well-informed. She can help him, she has to.

"Heeeeeeeeeey," Connix says when she answers. That sleepy drawl is certainly different. "You're back early, old man."

"Need some spanners and torches. What's happening out here?"

"Couldn't stay away from the fun, huh?" She giggles and repeats, "Fun. So much fun!"

"What? Kaydel Co, are you _stoned?_ While on duty?"

"Like you have a leg to stand on!"

"We're not talking about me," Poe says and draws himself up straight. "My personal-professional choices are not up for discussion at the moment. What is wrong with everyone around here?"

"Myrlea's pissed at me," Connix interrupts him. She sounds honestly distraught.

"Who's Myrlea?"

She groans dramatically. "Dameron! She's Myrlea! We've been together for, like, _ever_..."

"Connix, you sound about eleven years old right now."

She giggles some more at that, then seems to remember herself and says, very sadly, "I said I would share Finn with her! But she wants her own whack at him and got mad and hurt because she said I was suggesting she couldn't get him when I was not! I was trying to include her!"

Poe exhales as slowly as he can. He is far from accustomed to being the voice of reason, but now's as good a time as any to practice, he supposes. It's a bit difficult, given how BB-8 is rolling around at his feet, weaving back and forth in between his legs, and knocking at Poe's knees every so often for attention. _Someone's_ antsy and feeling neglected, and for once it's not Poe.

"You made a move on Finn?" he asks, but even aloud, the words make no sense. "Aren't you, you know. Exclusively—"

"—that's why I included her, because we're exclusive!"

"No, I mean. Exclusively into women?"

"Uh, _yeah_, of course I am. Women, and Finn."

He can't fault her taste. "I'm so confused, Connix."

His comm sounds an emergency _bloop_, echoed almost instantly by BB-8, who punctuates it with a series of jabs from his grasper arm at Poe's calf. To Connix, Poe says, "Gotta go, feel better, I guess?"

"Is that Finn?" she asks excitedly. "Tell him I said hi! Ask him what's his favorite—"

He ends the conversation before she can finish and thumbs up Finn's channel. "Buddy. What. The. Fuck."

"Can you talk?" Finn sounds hushed and very tense. "Is it safe?"

"Is what safe? There's like pink shit swirling around in the air and everyone's off their rocker and I think C'ai is in _heat_ and what did you do to Connix?"

"Ssshh! Don't let on you're talking to me!"

Poe turns around, so he's facing the landing gear of his fighter, and hunches a little. "Why?"

"I can't explain," Finn says.

"Someone better."

"No, I _can't_, as in cannot. I don't know what's going on. Please, could you—"

"Anything," Poe says promptly. "Just say the word."

"—send BB-8, maybe?"

"Why not me?"

This is getting ridiculous. Finn's supposedly _his_ best friend. Sure, Poe's been taking more solo missions than he used to, and he's working on the safe-house station when he has free time, but only because he figured Finn needed his space. A chance to make other friends on his own and find his feet like a regular person.

Not this! Whatever this is, where everyone (Connix? Connix!) is crowding in on Finn and declaring their interest.

"— won't leave me alone."

"I heard, buddy, I'm sorry."

"I need to get out of here."

Poe straightens up and grins. Sure, he's beaming at the undercarriage of a rehabbed freighter from one of Lando's shell companies, but that's not important. He's flush with purpose and helpfulness, and, damn, it feels good. "Then I am your man."

"It's not safe—"

"Man. Listen to me. I am both an experienced intelligence officer and a fan-fucking-tastic pilot. I am the answer to all your prayers."

Finn is quiet, but then there's a noise over the comm that sounds, at first, like a laugh. Then it sounds like a sob. Now Poe's truly confused, not to mention pretty concerned.

Finally, Finn says, softly, "You think pretty highly of yourself, huh?"

"Eh," Poe says, just as quietly, his smile never wavering, "I know my strengths. Know how to play to them."

His cheeks hurt from grinning. This tends to happen whenever he talks to Finn. Or, honestly, _thinks_ about Finn. He can't play it cool, not around Finn. He long ago ceased trying.

"I don't want to—" There's a crackle and a thump. "Tell me where to meet you."

Poe thinks quickly. "Auxiliary cargo bay, all the way in the back. Can you get there?"

"Yeah, think so."

"Where are you now?"

"Unf."

"What?"

"—_funf_. Tunnels. Hydraulics. See you in ten."

"Hide on the pallet of toilet salts!" Poe whispers urgently. "No one will look there."

He takes the ensuing silence as agreement, then rushes around the hangar to grab all the stuff he'd originally returned to fetch. He has a few minutes to spare, and comms Leia while backing the freighter up to the auxiliary cargo bay.

"Yes?" She sounds like she usually does, half-amused by something, half-distracted by the big questions. "Did you forget your mission? Would you like a reminder?"

"Funny, ma'am." He nudges the freighter neatly into place before suspending its power. "Just checking in. Sounds like things are pretty wild around here."

"You heard, eh? Thought you might be making an...opportune appearance." She pauses for a moment before adding, "Given your fondness for the subject of all this wildness."

"I —" Poe checks out the starboard window. "Can you just tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Such salty language," Leia replies. "You shock an old lady."

"I know for a fact you've heard worse," Poe says. "Let alone _said_ worse, probably just this morning. Why won't anyone give me a straight answer?"

"I daresay we are all rather addled at the present," Leia says. "Surely your droid filled you in?"

Oh, shit. He forgot BB-8. Poe glances over his shoulder, but BB-8's berth is empty.

Just then, three things happen simultaneously:

Someone shouts, "Over here!";

Finn peeks over the back of the boxes on the pallet. He appears to be glowing. Pink and vibrant, he shines like a Finn-shaped version of the particles in the air;

An all-staff alert breaks through regular comms: _«Finn's in auxiliary cargo bay!»_

That announcement is 'cast by BB-8 himself, the little jerk. 

More and more people are heading toward the hangar. He can hear their boots on the paths and see their shadows cutting through the pink particles in the air.

Poe opens the side cargo door and motions Finn to climb in. He'll have to hold his breath to get through, but there's plenty of space once he's inside. At least he's still shielded from the gathering crowd by the ship itself.

Poe stands up in the cockpit and fires a blank blaster round over the crowd.

That slows them down, at least.

"I'm just getting supplies!" he shouts. "Stop...swarming, or whatever it is you're doing."

"Lies!" Someone shouts and the chant goes up.

"Wants Finn for himself! Always did!"

Well, that's unfortunate. Poe likes to think he's a little more subtle than, apparently, he has managed.

"I'm not here for Finn!" he bellows. "Who's Finn? I don't know!"

"Nice try!" A Tuvian decked out in their finest scarlet robes shakes their small, blunt fist at him.

"I just came back for supplies!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!" Poe wipes the sweat off his face. He needs a better strategy for this argument. "I need a spanner and some torches, pal!"

"Liar!" That one's from C'ai, and, to be honest, it stings a little.

"Your mom's a liar!" Poe yells.

He hopes like hell that Finn has made it into the hold, because the crowd is growing. These are his friends and comrades. He doesn't want to have to use any of the standard tactics for crowd control and riot dispersal. That does give him an idea, however. He rifles around in the pockets of his jacket and finds a few more firecrackers. He'd stocked up in anticipation of the locals' Bright-King feast and bonfire and, luckily as it turns out, didn't throw them all at the height of the celebrations. He can throw these into the crowd and create enough confusion for them to make their getaway, at least.

Poe holds up the melon-sized capsule. "Guys, this is a lethal intoxicant! I'm going to break it open and you're not going to want to be anywhere near it, you hear me?"

There are definitely shouts of "liar!" but an equal number of grumbles and angry assertions that "he'd do it, he'll do _anything_, guy's nuts..." 

The time to worry about the state of his reputation is later, he knows that, but — what the hell?

"On three," Poe shouts and twists the capsule. About a quarter of the crowd moves back as he counts. He drops into the pilot's seat and holds on "two" before tossing the capsule and yanking closed the cockpit canopy.

Unfortunately, he neglected to account for the smoke obscuring _his_ exit route. He has to steer far more carefully and slowly than he'd like, until they hit the open tarmac. The crowd's still there, shoving at each other, but he just needs to make it several meters and then he's sky-bound. No one gets hit, though it's a close thing when the Tuvian launches themself at the freighter.

"You back there, buddy?" Poe asks when the ship clears local atmosphere. Without the pink particles swirling, the clarity of everything up here is almost too much. So sharp, it hurts to look.

He hears a thump and a clang, then Finn's voice, scratchy over the comms. "Yeah. Thanks."

"I'm going to need the mother of all explanations," Poe says. 

"Yeah," Finn says wearily. "Of course."

"But let's get to the station first, okay?"

"Yeah," Finn says again. He sounds like he needs to sleep for a thousand days. "Thank you."

"For you," Poe says before the jump hits, "anything."

*

"So this is what's been occupying all your time," Finn says when they arrive at Kaglow.

Kaglow Station was tossed up here for refuelling and cargo transfers on subluminal runs. It's barely a station, just bigger than a small habitat, a ramshackle wreck of neglect. Originally it occupied the unclaimable space between sectors, but that was sometime during the Clone Wars. Since then, lanes have shifted, a micro-black hole swallowed the near part of the Aidanzay system, and this place floated into further obscurity.

It's perfect, then, as a safe house. It _will be_ perfect, that is, as soon as it's refurbished.

Right now, even Poe can admit it looks like shit. All the worse as a backdrop to Finn's warm, pink-glowing form. He's still under there, still the same strong handsome guy, but the glow hovers and licks at him, blurring his outlines.

"Welcome," Poe says and spreads his arms like a puffed-up provincial official. "All the delights and services of Kaglow are yours to enjoy."

"Thanks," Finn says. "Really good of you."

"Don't mention it." Poe dusts off his hands, then plants them on his hips as he glances around the station. "Lots to do around here."

"You're not worried about my..."

Finn moves his hand vaguely up and down his torso.

"Glow?" Poe asks. "Condition? State?"

Finn nods. "Yeah."

"Nah." Shrugging, Poe scratches his jaw. "Used to it, no big deal."

Finn shifts his weight a little. "So. Tasks?"

Poe squares his shoulders and wishes he had a few centimeters on Finn. As it is, he does his best to sound something like a leader. "I'm going to put you to work, don't worry. You promised me explanations, though."

"Well," Finn says, and pauses to smile. Poe's not sure what Finn is smiling at, but he grins back. It's been too long since they got to work together, just the two of them. (That's Poe's fault, but he doesn't need to reflect on _that_ salient fact just now.) "I'm glowing. There's that."

"That is a fact, yes." Poe drags out a tool box and hands the torch to Finn. "Doesn't explain much, I have to say."

They fall into their usual easy rhythm, Finn welding reinforcements to the bulkhead while Poe lacquers the passageway. As they work, Finn does his best to explain what happened. Poe doesn't fully grasp the situation until he checks some logs from the base's medical droids.

Their current base is on the near side of a moon, Garxack-2. That moon orbits a planet which itself orbits a standard star. That star, however, is locked in a decades-long struggle cycle with an erratic pulsar. Every twenty-seven standard years, the pulsar's emissions bathe Garxack-2 like a searchlight picking up a fugitive. No big deal, unless that four-day period happens to coincide with the moon's spring pollination season. Then, the particular electro-magnetic wavelength of the pulsar's light activates dormant (possibly parasitical; scholars are divided and Poe can't follow their arguments) structures in the pollen. The rosy particles drifting everywhere through the air on base are those structures.

"And the glow?" Poe asks.

Finn shrugs. He looks so apologetic, it's painful to see. He's stripped down to his singlet and sitting on a packing case, shoulders slumped. "Whatever my physiology is, wherever I'm from, it...reacts."

"You're the Bright King," Poe says, finally putting together BB-8's earlier nonsense. The Garxackian locals have stories about renewal and the power of love embodied in a glowing figure. The parties that just ended welcomed that figure in the form of bonfires and vine-laden effigies. Most academics dismiss the hisoricity of the tales and consider them instead fertility folklore.

"Yeah," Finn says. "Looks like it."

Poe snorts. "You mean, _glows_ like it."

Finn is already dimming. He's away from the pollen, and its effects on his system are dwindling.

"It, um. Elevated my pheromones, maybe? The med droids weren't sure. Most of the people on base are allergic to me —"

"Hell of an allergy." Poe says, remembering C'ai's red mouth and the barely-restrained anger of the crowd.

"Emotional and sexual disinhibition? Yeah."

"Med-droid DC-726 recorded feeling quote-unquote distinctly frisky while examining you." Poe grins as he shuts his datapad. "Dude. Even droids are hot for you!"

"I really fucked up," Finn says miserably. He holds his head in his hands. "Distracted everyone, put them in danger."

"Your body had a reaction," Poe says. "How is that remotely your fault?"

Finn peers at him through spread fingers. "If I knew where I came from, maybe —. We might have known! I could have been stationed somewhere else, saved everyone all this trouble and disruption—"

"The pulsar's erratic," Poe notes. "And the whole Bright King's Bounty thing was just a crèche story. No way anyone would've known."

"I should've known," Finn mumbles.

Poe touches Finn's shoulder lightly and waits. When Finn doesn't shrug him off or move away, he pats Finn's back, then rubs slowly. "Even you, smart as you are, couldn't have known."

"Damn it."

"Think of it now, though," Poe says. He pinches Finn's neck and shakes him lightly. "You proved all those academics wrong. You're like a living refuse heap!"

Finn drops his hands and stares. "Refuse heap?"

"Like when you show a scientist he's wrong," Poe says. "You know."

"Refute?"

"Yeah, that." Poe grins. "One time, before I graduated, I _almost_ proved that Solo's acceleration vectors on the Kessel Run were overclocked. That was awesome."

Finn nods slowly, but at least he's smiling. "Uh-huh."

"What I'm trying to say," Poe says, and realizes he still has his hand on Finn's back. He stops, wonders if it's bothering Finn, then has to remember what he was going to say. The whole time, Finn looks at him, slight smile despite troubled eyes. Poe has often thought, in all the time he's spent up here, that the weirdest thing is that Finn trusts him.

Poe talks a big game, but he's always assumed everyone knew it was mostly bluffing and wayward hope. Then along comes Finn, smarter than anything but also desperate, and he seems to believe Poe's bantha-shit. Believe him, believe _in_ him.

No wonder he's been running away. That's some heavy stuff.

"Yes?" Finn asks softly when Poe doesn't continue talking.

Poe claps his hand on Finn's knee. "Just glad you're here. You want to eat?"

Finn looks around. There's nothing anywhere to suggest a cookery, even a pantry. "Eat?"

From the case he's sitting on, Poe drags out the bottom drawer. "I got sprout rolls, some succulent spread, four packets of koyo juice, and cetacean biscuits."

"Impressive."

"You know me," Poe says. "I like my snacks."

They share it all, though Poe can only let one packet of koyo juice leave his hands. When the food is gone and the wrapping has been dumped into the compost furnace, Poe straddles the case again and whips out a pack of cards.

"What do you want to play?" Finn asks. His glow is almost gone. It's just a smear behind closed lids now.

"Your call, my friend." Poe shuffles the deck with a flourish. "Though you shouldn't forget that I excel at several regional forms of sabacc."

Nodding, Finn sweeps the crumbs off the case between them. "You've got this whole place set up, don't you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

Finn nudges Poe's toe with his own. "Snacks, cards, probably a double bed-roll stowed somewhere —"

"Main drawer of this case," Poe admits.

"This is your hideout."

Poe shrugs. "It's more like a getaway destination."

"Sure," Finn replies. "So where's the spice bubbler?"

Poe knocks the bulkhead next to him. "Thinking about working it into the ventilation system."

Finn looks at him, for a really long time, smiling but not doing anything else.

Poe shifts a little. "So. Beebs said you were in jail?"

"Tried to isolate myself in the brig," Finn says as he takes the cards from Poe's hand. "After med-bay got breached. It wasn't secure enough, so I kept moving."

Poe jabs a triumphant finger at him. "Just like I taught you!"

"I'm pretty sure you didn't teach me to run from danger, but okay," Finn says.

"I did! When we had that intelligence training, remember?"

"You also said it was permissible to sleep with an asset if, and I quote, 'they're really hot'."

Poe frowns a little. "Yeah. So?"

"Nothing," Finn says, shaking his head. "It's just..." He smiles more widely. "Good to talk to you again."

"I'm very chatty," Poe says and gives Finn his most winning smile.

"That's not what I meant."

Nodding rapidly, Poe rubs his mouth, then wonders what that looks like and drops his hand. "Yeah, okay."

Finn shuffles the cards slowly. When he speaks, he addresses the cards. "Thought you were avoiding me."

"Yeah."

"Oh," Finn says. He looks up, gaze searching Poe's face. "Huh."

"What?"

"Yeah, you _were_ avoiding me?"

Poe scrubs at his forehead. "Kind of? Not because of _you_. Well, obviously because of you, but not you. Because I'm—. Because of me. Because I'm..." He trails off. When Finn nudges him, Poe sighs. "Because I'm a dolt. And a coward."

"Definitely not the latter."

Poe squints. "Which one's latter?"

"Coward." Finn keeps gazing at him, like he has all the time in the world and patience to spare.

"Oh, yeah."

"Don't think you're a dolt, either," Finn says. "For the record."

"Finn. Man. You don't have to reassure me. I'm a grown man. I can survive a little rejection."

Now Finn's narrowing his eyes. "What rejection?"

"The...rejection. Yours. Of me. That one." Poe sighs. It's obvious, but he's not describing it right, and Finn's going to make him spell it out, but Poe doesn't know how else to say it, and this whole experience is awkward and terrible and he really should have seen it coming.

"You'd have to make a move before I could reject you," Finn points out. 

That's entirely reasonable, really.

"Oh," Poe says. "I thought—"

"No," Finn says. "You didn't."

"But I—"

"Try me."

Poe smirks for half a second. "Is that an order?"

"A suggestion," Finn says.

So Poe heaves a deep sigh as he shifts closer and winds his arm around Finn's neck and drags him into a kiss that does not end. It tingles and burns and slip-slides and even groans a bit, but it does not end so much as, eventually, flicker away so they can breathe.

"No longer a coward, ace," Poe says.

Finn's hand is on Poe's waist and he's tugging at Poe and smiling. "Never were."

Finn smells good, and his kiss is hundreds of times better than Poe's most fervent imaginings, and now Poe has to laugh.

"What?" Finn starts to pull back. He has that small wrinkle between his brows, the one that he gets when he doubts himself or his situation.

Poe tightens his grip and shakes his head. "What took me so long?"

Finn relaxes. "Hell if I know."

"Kiss me again?" Poe asks.

Finn's smile start to curl; his tongue dashes out, just for a moment. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, man."

They keep staring at each other, however, and neither moves closer. Poe swallows a couple times, tastes Finn on his lips, and has to close his eyes for a while. The thought makes him dizzy, and he never gets dizzy, but here he is, sitting down yet dizzy.

"I don't want to take advantage," Finn says. He's speaking hesitantly, like the thoughts are difficult to discern and name. "Of you."

"What're you talking about?"

"Because, you know, I'd like —" Finn stops and looks away for a second.

"Say it," Poe tells him. 

Finn ducks his head. "Because I'd like to fuck you."

"No way!"

"Poe, c'mon, you know —"

"I do not know! This is fantastic news!" Poe hugs him hard and doesn't let go. The dizziness has vanished, replaced by elation that eclipses even the splendor of that kiss. "Finn!"

"Come on —" Finn tries, not all that hard, to push Poe back but Poe tightens the embrace. His face is against the side of Finn's neck and he presses his open mouth to the warm skin jumping over Finn's pulse.

After a moment or two, Finn gulps and shifts, wrapping his arms around Poe. Tipping closer. Poe makes a happy sound and clutches him tighter.

"You can take advantage of me," Poe whispers. His mouth is just below Finn's ear. He grins when Finn shivers in response. "Go wild with the advantage-taking. Please. I'll beg, if you want?"

Finn laughs, his shoulders lifting, and lightly bangs his forehead against Poe's shoulder. "It's serious, Poe."

"I'm serious," Poe insists. "Do you want me addled on your love dust? I could be!"

Chuckling ruefully, Finn just hides his face more.

"So if I do this?"

He drags his teeth down the line of Finn's clavicle before sucking hard on the soft depression at the base of Finn's throat.

"Poe—"

Finn's fingers dig into Poe's arms.

Poe leans back and yanks off his jersey. "Just wondering. What if I try this?" He kisses Finn again, good and hard, while scraping his nails down Finn's spine, to his waistband, to tease along the top of his ass. "This is where my tongue's gonna go."

Finn's groan reverberates through both of them. "That's — fuck, that's good."

"I know. Can I do this?" Poe pushes off the case and lands painfully on his knees. Hands on Finn's inner thighs, he hauls himself closer, then pushes one palm up Finn's jersey to stroke his pecs. Finn pushes into the touch, so Poe tugs on a nipple. "Is this me or the particles? Am I in my right mind?"

"You're such an asshole." Finn leans closer, breath breaking when Poe twists his nipple. "Fuck, that's good."

"Oh, buddy, you have no idea." He pitches forward, pulling open the fasteners on Finn's trousers, to shove his face into the damp heat at his groin. Finn palms the back of Poe's skull as he lifts his hips. "This?" Poe nips down, then swirls his tongue. "And maybe a little of this?"

Finn's fingers twist in Poe's hair. "A lot of that, please. _Now_."

Poe sits back. "I don't know. Do I _really_ want to choke on your cock? Or is it the pollen—"

"Dameron." Finn turns his hand the other way, pulling Poe's head to the side, exposing his throat. "You think you're funny."

Poe grins, despite the electric pain across his scalp, not to mention the throbbing insistence of his cock trapped in his trousers. "I _know_ I'm funny, actually."

With his free hand, Finn wrestles his cock out of his fly and strokes himself. He's got big hands, bigger dick, and Poe can't look away from the slide of his paler palm over the dark flesh. Poe smacks his lips as he meets Finn's gaze, then does it again, before letting his mouth fall all the way open, tongue lolling.

"You're killing me," Finn mumbles, hand tightening further in Poe's hair. Poe leans in and moves his lips and tongue across the cockhead. He inhales Finn's scent, licks a little, and then goes for it, pushing his mouth down over the head and locking his lips. "_Poe_, fuck." 

Poe answers at length, and quite intelligently, but given that his mouth is stuffed full of cock and Finn is pulling his hair and his spit is backing up into his nose, it comes out in a garbled moan. He hears the whine of his breath in his nose, feels his heart thunder against his sinuses and down the length of his cock, and keeps pushing, working tongue and throat. Finn thrusts, eyes wild and mouth open. Poe swallows and clenches his throat, rolls Finn's balls in his palm, tries to tell him without words every promise he's ever wanted to make and keep.

When he finishes, with Finn pushing into Poe's clutching throat, with the fingers on his left hand gone numb from gripping Finn's leg and his right hand stuffed under Finn's balls, seeking his hole, Poe swallows and swallows. It runs out the corner of his mouth and smears his chin. He coughs and swallows and coughs some more. Finn cups his cheek and leans over and Poe reaches up to kiss him, dirty mouth and exhausted tongue and all, and Finn smiles into the kiss.

"I had to do that," Poe tells him a little later; Finn's sitting on the floor, leaning against the case, and Poe's sprawled next to him. "The pulsar made me. Sorry for the incredible orgasm, blame the starlight."

"Uh-huh," Finn says, walking his fingers down the rise of Poe's hip, dipping under his waistband, then skating back. "So we're done now?"

"Eh, maybe another round? Then we'll see."

"Sounds like a plan," Finn says. He cups Poe's crotch and squeezes his erection. "I mean, I might be disappointed..."

"Fuck you, Bright King or not, I am a sexy delight and a _half_."

"Bold claims, Dameron. Hope you can live up to them," Finn murmurs against Poe's lips. He gets his hand into Poe's fly and caresses the underside of Poe's shaft; Poe's been hard so long that his hips buck once and he almost bites off a moan before he realizes he doesn't have to. There never was any point in being anything other than honest with Finn. 

"Plan to," Poe promises him, as Finn grasps him more firmly. "Just keep doing that, and you'll see."

Finn kisses him harder and jerks him roughly, just this side of too much, too hard, and Poe can't do anything but pour himself into it, into Finn's touch and mouth, his expectations and trust. He's going to come hard enough to turn himself inside out, and that's just the beginning.


End file.
